Tell your friends, and come back soon.

The Vulva Dialogues

May 19, 2011

Some women seem to fall easily—and big time Head Over Heels—for men who are not all that. Not getting or keeping one of those unremarkable males can send them into a tailspin. If we are going to change the status quo of the sexes, we need more than good jobs, workplace equality and great vibrators—we need a new attitude.

Before I put the survey results together, I expected to find that women fall into the desperate state at predictable life confluences of age and situation, for example:

22, fresh out of college, under-employed and no boyfriend;

38, unattached yet wanting a baby and a husband to help raise it;

50 (or over), unhappily married or single and broke.

Well, not exactly.

This is the first survey in a long time that generated more responses from women (283) than men (175). Moreover, two-thirds of the women said they were or had been desperate—and three-fourths of the men said they had been with a desperate woman. While I did find some of these Desperate Women falling into the behavior at 22 and 38 and 50—over 100 were various other ages, mostly 22-30, 38-45 and 50 up to 61, the oldest respondent.

Defining The Desperate Woman

First, let’s clarify our terms: I define a desperate woman as having low self-esteem, believing she has no choices and must settle for whatever follows her home.

But my new friend Cecilia, 25, single and gorgeous, adds, “A lot of desperate women have unrealistic expectations. They are waiting for the perfect man, the man with a lot of money, the Prince Charming to sweep them off their feet. He doesn’t show and they feel desperate.”

Good point. Desperate is a state of mind, not the reality of how a woman looks or what she has to offer—but a mental state influenced often by unrealistic expectations and throwback societal attitudes about the comparative worth of male and female.

Why such prolonged desperation in women?

I turned to M, a man who has practiced both monogamy and polyamory, including swinging—but truly a man who loves and respects women. Unlike Pick-Up Artists who look for a woman’s weaknesses to use against her in the quest for the score, he is interested in learning who a woman is for the sake of enriching his life by knowing her and enriching her sexual experience by giving her what she desires. He responded, as he always does, with thoughtful and encouraging advice for women—which I will post separately because it deserves the space—that grows out of his understanding of why women are so damn desperate. M exemplifies the wonderful men who read SexyPrime: they are real champions of female sexual empowerment.

How does she act out her desperation?

She may act out by indiscriminate sexual behavior, for example, having drunken hook-up sex or throwing herself at her best friend’s husband.

Or she may assume the role of the judgmental prude, coming down hard on other women for their sexual behavior.

Or she may simply retreat into an icy celibacy—even if she is married.

Some answers on what makes a woman desperate from the survey—

PREGNANCY AND AFTER, WITH LITTLE OR NO SUPPORT FROM THE FATHER

--“I had three children in five years while my husband was in the military. When he came home, he cheated on me with the wife of a friend who was still serving, and gave me an STD. I stayed with him for four more years because I was so beaten down—desperate for any bit of love or kindness, lacking in self-esteem—until he asked me why I stayed with him. That did it for me. Looking back, I can’t believe how pathetic I was,” 34, divorced.

--“I have been a Desperate Woman. I’d just had a baby and my husband hadn’t touched me in months because he was skeeved out by the pregnancy and then overwhelmed with the financial burden of losing my income and health insurance benefits, all after started a new company. He got an extra job at a nightclub and hung out with his new service industry friends. I know the service industry. It’s full of long late crazy nights and often drugs, alcohol and sex.

“I was suspicious when he started talking about this one girl a lot. I felt fat and I was

breast-feeding. There was no money for me to go out even if I felt like it. When I met her, I saw how she behaved around him and I knew. There is a recipe for desperation,” 37, married.

--“My Baby Daddy was hot. I knew he was cheating on me with more than one girl. I suffered from post-partum depression and before the meds kicked in, one of the girls came to tell me she was having his baby too. I was so desperate, I thought about suicide. My parents came and took me back home with them. For a year, I was an emotional mess. Then they told me I had to go to college—there is a state university in our town—or they would file for custody of my child and throw me out. That big kick in my ass saved my life,” 42, “happily married professional.”

TOO LONG SINGLE

--“I haven’t had sex in over a year. I’m so tired of being alone. What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I find someone who cares about me? I would settle for one of those average men. My last relationship was one-sided, on my side. I totally let him call the shots,” 40, single.

--“I know you are fairly contemptuous of drunken hook-up sex. If I didn’t have that kind of sex, I wouldn’t have any sex at all. I’m not getting any younger. If something doesn’t happen for me soon, I am leaving New York City and going someplace where men take women out on real dates and get serious about them,” 37, single.

[Note: Honey, I am not against hook-ups, just drunken hook-ups and drunken sex in general. Too much alcohol deadens the nerve endings. Nobody has good sex in a stupor. Either they lie about how good it was or they were so drunk they really believe it was that good. Smart girls who want to hook up stay sober and carry condoms, individual packs of lube, vibrating cock rings and small vibes. I love the lipstick-shaped ones. It all fits into a cosmetic bag.]

--“I like this boy, he’s not anything spectacular, not worth the effort, an average person which bothers me even more. Everybody knows I like him but he doesn’t like me as much. If a boy likes you, he’ll do whatever to get you. I am convenient for him.

“He contacts me every few weeks, we go out to nice places, but no sex though I think it will happen because he really wants it. I want to wait for marriage. No phone talk, no text between dates. He has a good job. I want to marry him,” 25, single and a virgin "from a typical Asian-American family".

And this one is very similar to the other 27 responses from Desperate Women over 50:

--“I’ve been divorced for fifteen years; and I have gone as much as five years between dates, five years without sex so I get really nervous about having it again. Nothing close to a marriage proposal. The men I see are also seeing other women. I can’t even get one ordinary guy all to myself,” 55, divorced.

COMING OFF A BAD BREAK-UP

--“I was devastated when my fiancé broke things off a month before the wedding. The humiliation was like the initial bruising and swelling from a bad fall. But underneath that I was all broken and the bones of identity heal slowly,” 34, single.

--“I am that stereotype: a middle-age woman whose husband left her for his younger pregnant girlfriend. For three years, I was a Desperado. I drank A LOT. I hooked up with younger men I met in bars. I slept with my friends’ husbands, who, in all fairness came after me. One day I overheard two men at the country club calling me The Club Slut. I walked away from the martini sitting on the bar and never looked back,” 57, in “a very satisfying relationship with a younger man.”

WEIGHT GAIN, WRINKLES AND OTHER BODY ISSUES

Many women blamed their desperation on body issues. This response is a typical one:

--“The first time I was standing at a cocktail party with champagne flute in hand, all aflutter because I knew the handsome guy heading my way was coming for ME only to have him walk around me as if I were a potted tree and head for the younger woman behind me—that day I looked in a restroom mirror, saw my wrinkles, bags and sags and became desperate. For seven years, I was desperate, trying to forge a relationship with any loser who asked for my phone number. I can’t tell you why the cloud lifted. Maybe it was hormonal,” 47, single

What Is The Tipping (Into Desperation) Point?

--“For me, it wasn't just that my husband wasn't fucking me, or that he was fucking someone else, or that he was prevaricating about it, or that he was going out without me, or that I felt unattractive after just having had a baby. It took all of those things together to push me into desperation. But I know other women who have much different thresholds, and even just one of those could be the tipping point for them,” 37, married.

--“When she starts to believe she deserves less than what she wants and will settle for what she can get,” anonymous.

Yes, I agree with that. The tipping point may be different for different women, as the first commentator suggests, but the bottom line: You get what you believe you deserve.

That does not contradict the advice to expand your concept of who is an acceptable partner. Many women said: Consider older/younger men, men of different races, ethnicities or nationalities, men you’ve written off as not your type. They did not mean: Settle for some guy who treats you badly, manipulates and demeans you.

Finally, and sadly, 80% of you have dated Freddies.

These responses say it all:

--“I have not dated anyone as bad as Freddie, although my Guy From My Time of Desperation had some similarities. He was a has-been - a guy in his 30s who'd been an athlete in high school and college, but who now was bald and had a big ol' belly and was bitter and sensitive about it. He saw pictures of me pregnant once and said flat-out that he would not have been attracted to me then - even though his NON-pregnant belly was bigger than mine when it was full of baby. He would make comments every once in a while about me tightening up a little here and there, and he'd jiggle my soft parts. Very controlling behavior, especially for someone in a more fragile emotional state. I wanted to please him - at least HE was fucking me, and he was doing it pretty well, too. I didn't want to lose the physical stuff he offered, even to the point of enduring the emotional crap he was dishing out,” 30s and married.

--“In hindsight I think my biggest love was a Freddie... though I didn't see him as such until lately (27 years later). He feels he is God's gift to women, a constant womanizer, even directly in front of his meek wife. He does love women (I don't believe Freddie actually does) but uses them for his own purposes and moves on but most of those women would take him back into their beds in a heartbeat,” late 40s and married.

In the coming days, I will post M’s advice to desperate women and responses to the “low hanging fruit” question—which opened up the proverbial can of worms—and the delicious stories of Sexy Beasts.

Tomorrow: The SexyPrime Desperate Women and Beastly Men Survey, Part Two: The Beastly Men. Frederick Ebel is the ultimate Beastly Man. His prized little white mustache reminds me of lab rat hair. But I will let him speak for himself--beginning with his story of sexual initiation at 14 by a 60 year old woman.

copyright 2008-2011, www.sexyprime.typepad.com; PARTIAL reposts only permitted with link back to original article on SexyPrime

December 10, 2010

I’ve been reading lately about the plague of “mean girls.” More vicious than the bratty girls of my youth, they are cyber bullies capable of driving a weaker girl to suicide without breaking a sweat. Where, the commentators lament, do these girls come from? Early puberty is one the leading theories.

I’ll tell you where they come from. Spend some time with women. My favorite gender is not my own. While there are wonderful women out there—including three women who have been my friends since we were young—and SexyPrime readers and some fabulous babes standing up for sexual freedom through their own work every day—women generally are more phony and duplicitous than men, far more judgmental of other women (especially their friends) than men are of other men, and meaner in spirit. A little girl’s first lesson "about being female is learned at Mommy’s knee. Mommy hugs, kisses, love-yous Sally and then rips Sally to verbal shreds with Jane and Anne, who each get their turn (when they aren’t around to defend themselves) in the character shredder that is the glossy-lipped female mouth. Men don’t behave like this.

Or consider the late middle-age male whose sex life is reduced to low-burning embers. He watches cyberporn, masturbates when he can and smiles wistfully at the exploits of other men. The late middle-age female whose sex life is equally burned out turns into a prude speaking against sexual pleasure, especially if a woman is having the pleasure. Women are the gender at every age who attempt to put other women into rigidly defined sexual and social boxes. Men don’t do that to each other.

In The Twisted Sisterhood: Unraveling The Dark Legacy of Female Friendships (Ballantine), Kelly Valen weaves her own personal story with a survey of over 3,000 women and some expert commentary. Valen was date raped at a fraternity party in the 1980s. Her rapist apologized, was ostracized by his fraternity brothers and eventually transferred to another school. Valen’s sorority sisters, however, took a vote and asked her to pack and leave their house. Why? She was a drunken “loose” woman; and the rape was her own fault.

In her forties when she wrote this book, Valen quickly learned how far women have not come since the 80s. She describes the nasty commentary her story provoked on the web as “cyber beatings.” In surveying women of all ages, races and backgrounds in fifty states, she certainly learned that she was not alone.

84% of the women surveyed said they experienced “a palpable sense of wounding at the hands of other women.” 88% said they felt “an undercurrent of incivility and negativity within the female gender.” And 1,000 women—one-third of the survey—reported seeking therapy as a direct result of mistreatment at the hands of other women.

“I’m not sure why we are throwing each other under the bus,” Valen says. Rather than “wasting time” trying to figure that out, she says we need to be supportive of one another. Both in experience and through observation, I see women’s support of one another as largely superficial lip service. Women are so incapable of supporting one another’s choices that they have gone to cultural war over the issue of breast-feeding (or not.)

Much as I loved the series, “Sex and the City” was based on a big fat lie: Four women of very different backgrounds, styles and sexual tastes bond as friends, forming a relationship so tight and intense that men were almost secondary creatures in their lives. Oh, please. Any one of those women would have cut the other three for her lasting shot at Mr. Big. And rarely do women support other women’s sexual choices. Charlotte and Samantha as BFFs? Really?

But it was such a nice, comforting lie, wasn’t it? Maybe they were the women we secretly long to be.

copyright 2008-2011, www.sexyprime.typepad.com; PARTIAL reposts only permitted with link back to original article on SexyPrime.

October 01, 2010

“You will clamp your nipples this morning as you shower and you will describe how it feels in detail.I’m thinking of how you are going to please me when we are together.I want you to take my cock all the way down your throat.”

I had planned in this post to pick up Sir X’s fantasy in “Diary of an Affair,” Part Two, beginning with him coming into the hotel room to find me bare-assed with a variety of implements nearby. That inspired an interesting email exchange between us.He has asked me to bring the following toys and implements from Babeland to our rendezvous in D.C. next week:the Medium Pink Flogger, Candy Apple wrist restraints, rope, the Mona vibe, TWO, Pink Vibrating Nipple Clamps, Protouch Plug, Squeel—and purchase a wooden spoon and wooden hair brush with natural bristles.Now I will wait to write about what happens to that ass (and the rest of me) until I can report on the experience, not imagine it.

We have moved rather quickly to a new place.A week ago he wrote:

“Susan,

You are mine now. I will treat you with the respect you deserve. You have my permission to maintain your current relationships with the two lucky men that are privileged to enjoy your female delights. But you must tell me what goes on when you have them. If you don't there will be consequences.

You now need to tell me what items of pain and pleasure you have. You also must keep a camera with you at all times. You are going to take the pictures I tell you to take.

If you agree with this we can continue.

X”

I almost can't breathe.

Yes, I do agree.

I love this. I am his. I want him to give me orders. My pussy is engorged just thinking about it.

“I intensely desire to see you right now, partially unclothed, squeezing your breasts and nipples.I am feeling the power exchange—and my desire to tease and torment you with both denial of the sex you want and the intense sensations of pain at the same time is very strong. My testicles are in pain with the need to explode deep, deep inside you as your cunt spasms tight around my cock.

“I am so fucking hard right now. My cock is throbbing against this lap pad my laptop is on.

“Tomorrow morning, I will send you the first Rules of the Day.

”I am in charge of your sexual release now.You may not have an orgasm unless I permit it.Do not masturbate unless I give you permission to do so.”

“Take two ice cubes and hold them against your nipples for four minutes.Tell me how it feels.”

Second order, that day:

“Put two wash clothes in the basin and fill with hot water.Put the ice cubes on your nipples for four minutes.Now squeeze water out of the clothes and apply them to your nipples.Tell me how it feels.”

It is exquisitely exciting to do what he tells me to do.My nipples burned and went numb by the fourth minute.In the second exercise the warmth brought them painfully back to feeling—like the nipple clamp coming off, only softer, different.Oh, god, I wanted to masturbate, but I didn’t.

He sent a video of him masturbating to ejaculation.

“Your reward for being a pleasing obedient woman. You may not play this until tomorrow morning

“You may not masturbate until you have watched the video three times, or you may watch as much as you want but you must wait 90 minutes to touch yourself. I want you squeezing your breasts, pinching and rolling your nipples, and you must use the ice cubes on your nipples when you masturbate to this video.”

I am thrilling to the idea of him being in charge. The video is so hot.I felt intimately connected to his cock watching it work toward ejaculation; and I wanted that cum everywhere.No wonder we instantly trusted one another and felt such an immediate connection. His suppressed dominant and my repressed submissive recognized each other at "hello."

I can barely breath when I think about all the things he will do to me, how he will tease and torment—and own— my body and then bring me to such a level of extreme pleasure.I fantasize looking into his eyes as he torments my nipples and I almost orgasm at both the anticipation of the pain and the excitement of sharing the experience with hin so intimately--and, of course, the intensity of the ultimate pleasure.

This morning, I put on the clover clamps—wicked—and walked around in them for about five minutes until my nipples were numb. Then I tugged the chain, automatically tightening their grip and gasped. So much for numb. I got into the shower. Running first cold, then hot, then cold again water over my clamped nipples brought them stingingly back to life. Out of the shower, I unclamped them and almost cried out from the sudden intense pain--a pain I felt in my groin, tickling its way into my pussy. God I wanted him to be the one unclamping them.. I put the flats of my palms against my nipples to feel the heat and then held them throbbing between my fingertips. I wanted his fingers on them.

Afterward, I couldn't get him out of my head........

and there is something else I have to acknowledge: I am drawn to this man on so many levels; I "get" him. I like him. I know who he is, one of those men, long married to or involved with a woman who isn't interested in his body anymore, if she ever was. They are the men whose dog persona is more "whipped" than "dawg!" pulling after work into the parking lots of Hooters, Fridays, Houliahans, Ruby Tuesdays--into the strip clubs and the sports bars-- no longer looking for love, yet still longing, even if their desire is buried deep. The firm young female flesh on display connects them with their youth, when last they felt desired.

He called one night from Hooters where he was supposed to meet a friend for a drink. "I was so late, he'd left already. Here I am alone drinking a beer and looking at, well, the hooters. These girls are so young. If I flirt with them, I think, This isn't right..."

"I want you so much; I want to do so many things to you, but I also....I want to talk to you. I really do."

copyright 2008-2011, www.sexyprime.typepad.com; PARTIAL reposts only permitted with link back to original article on SexyPrime.

September 24, 2010

My fantasy lover is the really smart guy--the enlightened man who does not have some major issues with women--who can be the intelligent sex beast I crave behind closed doors—and, yes, I would like it if he were also sweet, funny and adorable sometimes too and could hold me tenderly and make me giggle.

I want him to thrust as deeply as he can into every orifice, to claim me, to leave his mark, but not to ask if he can—to take because he knows I am his on some deep primal level that has nothing to do with domestic arrangements.

So this man I told you about last week in Diary of an Affair, part one, my Facebook contact/fantasy man?: We email. We talk. He sends me photographs and fantasies. I confess my desires. We walk around a thousand miles apart swollen for one another. I have a gallery of his photos on the desktop; and I find myself clicking them open more than once a day. Oh, god, I love chest hair.

Some emails:

“I want your mouth around my cock. I want to hold your head down as I thrust into your mouth, pinching and tugging on your ears, pulling your hair.”

We recognize something in the other that we both need and want that will fulfill us in ways past experiences have not. We are both looking for an intense, wild ride with the right person—yes? Instinctively, we trust one another. We're not fools so we must be on to something.

“YES, YES, YES!”

I want you to indulge your secret fantasies as well as mine--and make me GASP.......

He wrote this story:

It all began as a normal, random act of Facebook. I clicked on a suggestion to "add as friend.” With that click, we connected. We both jumped off the proverbial cliff without even looking down to make sure there was water to land in.

She calls from the airport terminal and says, “I made a reservation at Proof.” Excited does not do justice to the emotions enveloping me. I am ninety minutes away from the first time physical meeting that has been nearly two months in planning. This is an affair of texts and phone calls and release in separate acts of masturbation. And now… I jump in the shower, again, only cold water which does nothing to reduce the energy that is pulsating throughout my body. The flow of the water across my head does give my mind some diverting white noise. I use this as a calming mantra. Without it, I feel that I will spontaneously combust.

I exit the Hay Adams Hotel, her choice, and hail down a taxi, tell the driver the location and wait. As I pass through the restaurant door I am already scanning the room, looking to see if she is here yet. This is a good time and place for the first meeting, mid-afternoon, the lunch crowd gone, the staff unhurriedly setting up for dinner, only two tables occupied. I ask for the reservation under the agreed upon name. He tells me I am the first to arrive and calls a waitress to take me to the table. I sit facing the door, because I do not want to miss her entrance. It feels like an eternity, but only about ten minutes pass before I see her come through the door.

One of the rules in an affair, she said, is no PDA's or Public Displays of Affections. Instead of jumping up from the table and rushing over like a happy puppy, I remain seated as she makes her way toward me. I stand and extend my hand to shake hers, but she pulls me into a hug. She whispers into my ear, "I'm not wearing panties." Fewer, better words are ever heard by a man, in a public place, said by a woman he wants to ravish. We order some appetizers and a bottle of wine and try to make it look like we're having an afternoon business meeting, but the only thing on my mind is getting her naked and plunging my cock deep inside her pussy.

Eating the appetizers seductively, we stare at each other, both wanting to rip clothes off and get down and dirty. We talk in suggestive comments. She gets up to go to the bathroom and returns with her blouse unbuttoned further down—and no bra. I see the round edges of her breasts and her swollen nipples easily visible through the silk. She holds her hand up to my face and says, “Breathe deeply.” The smell of her sexual arousal is delicious.

“You’re being very naughty,” I say. “I might have to provide some education in proper behavior to you.”

Her aquamarine eyes burn hot and her lips part in a sultry way suggesting she wants that teaching. She has confided her desires to me—and she wants to be dominated by a lover who expects her to take his cock any time, any way he wants to thrust it into her, a strong man who understands the judicious use of erotic pain. No holds barred, she wrote, no topping from below, push my erotic limits. My swollen cock presses against my pants. I ask for the check and she excuses herself for the ladies room again. When I sign the receipt and follow in her direction, I see that the ladies room door is slightly open. She is standing just inside the door, her blouse completely open. Checking to be sure no one is watching, I entered the bathroom.

I put my hands around her on her lower back, pull her in close and nuzzle her neck and kiss her deeply. We’ve been waiting so long for this. She grasps my belt. I withdrew from the kiss and move us toward the handicap stall, more room to maneuver.

“I can’t wait any longer,” I say. “I must have you now."

In the corner of the stall so we can use the hand rails, I put my mouth on her breast. I cover her hard nipples, first one, then the other with my lips and suck and tease them with my teeth before biting down on them. She lets out a low soft moan. I open my lips and flick one erect nipple with my tongue while squeezing and twisting the other one—hard. She gasps. I put one hand went below her skirt, slide ut up the back of her leg. She shivers. I bite her nipple again. Lifting the skirt, I alternately caress and sqeeze the curve of her bare ass, while firmly twisting, pulling and pinching her nipple with the other hand.

I push her to her knees. With trembling hands, she pulls down my pants and underpants in one quick move. She wastes no time in sliding her lips around my throbbing cock. The warmth and moistness of her mouth and tongue make my cock even harder. She sucks, simultaneously swirling her tongue around the head. I don't want this to stop, but I can wait no longer to be deep inside her.

I pull her up and wrap her compliant arms around my neck as I raise her skirt and grab hold her ass cheeks. She is totally open to anything I want to do with her. I lift her up and wedge her in the corner, slightly resting her on the hand rails. I watch as she guides my cock into her pussy. Omigod how incredible it feels… my cock parting her drenched pussy lips. She is so hot inside, giving off more heat in her silky wetness than my cock has ever felt inside of a woman. I feel every fold of flesh as my cock penetrates deeper into her. She wraps her legs around me and pulls me in tighter. We furiously thrust against each other. In mere seconds, we are both enveloped by waves of orgasm—but they were seconds that have been held in check for many weeks.

As we leave Proof, the staff tells us, “Please come again soon.”

NEXT WEEK, SUSAN PICKS UP THE FANTASY. SHE IS WAITING FOR HIM IN HIS HOTEL ROOM WHEN HE RETURNS FROM A MEETING. AN OPENING TEASER:

He calls up from the lobby. I check the coffee table to be sure everything is ready for him to choose. A pink leather flogger, the old soft belt I pulled from his jeans, a wooden hairbrush, a thin whippy cane, a wooden spoon, a plastic spatula. What will he use? And will he use more than one implement? My breathing is shallow, erratic. I am fevered. A feeling of erotic dread builds in he pit of my stomach, sending out fiery tentacles to ignite my genitals. I want this. Whatever he will do. I want.

I step out of my skirt and lean forward, resting my elbows on the arm of the sofa. With my feet in four inch heels as wide apart as I can make them, I thrust my ass back and out, to greet him. I hear his key in the door...

copyright 2008-2011, www.sexyprime.typepad.com; PARTIAL reposts only permitted with link back to original article on SexyPrime.

September 17, 2010

Frequently strange men email me photos of their penises—and I am unmoved.I delete them.Or I write, “I am not aroused by a cock I’ve never met.Put it back inside your pants, please.”

Now I am having spontaneous sleep orgasms, waking in orgasmic thrall to the images of a cock I’ve not yet met.

I told you about the stranger in the chair in the post Men and Their Missing Sense of Being Desired.After a Facebook introduction, he sent me a photo, basically a bare-chested torso shot; and I put myself into that picture in a variety of ways, one described in the post.He had me from the first photograph.We quickly moved to emails and phone conversations—and, yes, more photographs—bypassing that awkward “getting to know you” phase.

He asks, “Want more?” before sending the next, more explicit photo. I like that.Already he is making me ask for it; and now that I have seen it, I know he will make me beg.Without bragging or posturing, he knows what he has.

In one shot, he is standing, his chin and part of a smile visible above the bare chest—and a hint of cock showing where the unfastened jeans dip below his waist.

“Want more?”Yes, please. I squirmed in my chair waiting for it. Oh—and more is so nice.Standing straight out, beautifully formed—as regal a cock at attention as I have ever seen.

“More?” Yes.

“Tell me what you want to see next,” he said.

“I want to see it in your hand.”

And, yes, in his hand, perfect.Absolutely the perfect penis.Beautifully shaded, thick and sturdy, proud head rising regally above the shaft.Omigod, the quality of his erections……..

Twice before I have been dick-matized by exceptional cocks.My heart pounds; and I know it is happening again.But he, the man, has also captured my imagination.The secrets he tells me, that I can’t repeat, are thrilling.I want him more.

I write:

Tell me how you like it, how you want it, how you want me to handle that cock, how you plan to use it.......................

What do you love that you don't get enough of?

What do other women not want to do or don't do well?I want to give you what they have not.

Don't be shy. Don't think you have to say "the right things." I want to know what you REALLY want....

I want:

To make him come in my mouth.

Him to tease my clit with the head of his cock, tease my clit with his fingers and tongue, roll it between his thumb and first finger, as if impaling my desire on a hook, while he barely penetrates me...

And make me beg him to fuck me hard.

And then do it, hard.

To take him up my ass, all the way, every inch of him until I feel his balls slapping against my pussy.I want him to take long, slow deep strokes, pulling nearly out and pushing all the way in again, harder each time, until he is fucking my ass like no man has ever fucked it.I want him to take me to a place through pain to intense pleasure and hold me there with his thumb massaging my clit until I think I will die from it.

He writes a fantasy

From behind, his hard cock is pressing against her firm ass. The smooth leather of the skirt feels good against his cock. His hands are at her waist moving slowly up to each button of the creamy white silk blouse. She pushes her hip harder against his cock, very slowly moving side to side. He leans his face in and begins to lightly kiss her neck. She shivers and moans with pleasure. The buttons on the blouse give no resistance, and he only needs to do three as she rarely has anything buttoned above her breast line. When this last button is undone, he pulls the blouse open and back, peeling it down off her arms and dropping it to the floor, one easy move. The demi-bra has her breasts lifted high, her nipples thrust out. He unhooks the front closure and easily removes the bra. He grasps her breasts tightly, her hard nipples pressing against his palms. She grinds her ass against his hard cock, urging him to pump her. He pushes her forward against the desk and lifts her shirt up revealing her nakedness. She never wears panties. He reaches a hand down between her legs and she eagerly spreads them apart. He pushes his hand between her legs and against her vagina. She is very wet and his middle finger easily penetrates between her lips. He's teasing her now. She reaches behind her, finding his cock and pulls him toward her. She's breathing heavily; and little whimpers escape her lips, almost against her wll. She is trembling and he knows she has to have him now. He drives the head of his cocks into her, splitting her open; and he drives hard into her, making her gasp. She leans flat against the desk, pushing herself harder against him. He grasps her hips and pulls her as he pumps her hard. The feeling of being inside her is nearly indescribable. He breaths in deeply of the smell of her sex, intoxicating to him. He's pumping her hard but trying to stay off his orgasm until he knows she will orgasm too. Her moans and the way her pussy starts squeezing his cock harder tell him she is about to cum. He pulls her hips harder toward him and pushes in deeper. He can feel the head of his cock opening her up deep inside. This extra tightness against the top third of his cock takes him over the edge. The next entry deep inside her rewards them both in waves of orgasm. They stay in the position for several minutes afterward not wanting to give up the closeness they have just shared.

We agree:

That we want a hot, sweaty, steamy, no-holds-barred, push-the-erotic-limits affair.I want to rock his world.I want to leave him feeling sated, sore, exhausted but still so turned on that I have to masturbate in the airplane rest room to make it home.

And we make plans to rendezvous in a month...

copyright 2008-2011, www.sexyprime.typepad.com; PARTIAL reposts only permitted with link back to original article on SexyPrime.

September 07, 2010

Occasionally men write that they do not feel wanted and desired by their partners.Men not feeling desired is such a little explored topic that you can’t go to google or bing and pull up a dozen recent studies.Men don’t talk about it much amongst themselves either.

I found a literate discussion of the topic in a blog post that begins, “I’ve been thinking of the experience—or lack thereof—of being the object of other’s desires.”

The writer Hugo Schwyzer contends (and I think rightly) that women live with the knowledge that they are the objects of desire while men assume that only a Brad Pitt will incite the sexual longing of women.

He writes:

“So many straight men have no experience of being wanted. So many straight men have no experience of sensing a gaze of outright longing. Even many men who are wise in the world and in relationships, who know that their wives or girlfriends love them, do not know what it is to be admired and longed for for their bodies and their looks. They may know what it is to be relied upon, they may know what it is to bring another to ecstasy with their tongue or their touch, but they don’t know what it is to be found not only aesthetically pleasing to the eye but worthy of longing.”

Some women, especially younger women, do speak of men as sex objects, but, usually the men are pretty boys.When I say to women that I love men’s bodies—not pretty boys’ bodies, but real men’s—they grow uncomfortable with the concept, the language.I am admonished that a man is not just a body.My erotic memoir Dick-Matized, an ode to a particular cock, is so scandalous it will likely be published in Europe before the U. S.(See excerpts under the category Dick-matized on the right.)

Last week a new Facebook “friend”—and we need a better word for these connections—confided hat he cannot remember the last time he felt sexually desired.He sent me a set of three “chaste” photos (after I said that, yes, I would like to see them):a bare ass; torso in black briefs; torso, seated, bare chest with hair, including a delicious line leading down the belly and out of sight into jeans open, revealing only a glimpse of blue briefs.Nice shots, but the jeans photo really turned me on.I caught my breath.I wanted that man.

One of his arms is resting on the arm of a wooden chair; the other is outstretched, the hand out of the picture.I imagine the hand is reaching out to me.My breathing accelerates; my heart beats faster.

I sink to my knees and caress those strong shoulders as I lick and suck his nipples.Then I lick curls into his chest hair.Follow the trail down his belly with the tip of my tongue, vibrating it to give him a hint of what is coming.Run my hands down his chest and unzip his jeans with shaky fingers.Pull out his cock; and his cock knows me.

Holding the shaft firmly, I swirl my tongue around the head, flick the tip of it back and forth across the ridge of the corona, run broad tongue strokes up and down his shaft—and then suck, slowly just the head at first, taking more of him into my mouth, dominated by his hands on my head, pulling my hair, gently pushing my head down further until he fills me and I can only just barely breath.

He squeezes my nipples hard as he comes in my mouth—and I come too, not taking him out of my mouth as I savor the taste of his fluids and his throbbing sensations echo against the roof of my mouth.

In minutes, I have him hard again.I mount and ride him this time….

And that is but one of several fantasies woven around the stranger in the chair.

Men send me photos of their cocks and I am un-moved.Sometimes, I confess, I have laughed at their hubris.But this man’s body…is a perfect and very personal object of desire. I have put myself into that picture in so many ways. Yet he says that he lives with a woman, his lover, without feeling desired.

How is that possible--and why should it be acceptable?

Here is your science question of the day:

Women, do you desire men as sex objects?

Men, do you feel desired?

copyright 2008-2011, www.sexyprime.typepad.com; PARTIAL reposts only permitted with link back to original article on SexyPrime.

August 28, 2010

I am pleased and proud to introduce Lynda Belle to you if you don't know her already. She and I are FB friends, with 471 friends in common! I value her feedback on SexyPrime posts. And I just love hearing from her, no matter what the topic of the day. When a few days go by without a note from Lynda Belle, I write and ask, Where are you? She is a smart Babe who loves sex, my favorite kind of woman.

She gave me permission to reprint this essay on her marriage as a guest blog. Lynda, I wish I'd had what you have. (Don't tell anyone, but my remaining romantic/sex life ambition is to fall in love again--and fall in love with a man I absolutely adore.)

Now readers, your special weekend treat: Lynda Belle on her marriage.

Photo Credit: From Lynda's Facebook page (linked above)

Been married since 1986 and raised two daughters, now in their 20's. God that makes me feel old. I often say that Hubby and I don't live any particular lifestyle but our own. How could we? I don't know anyone who could live our lifestyle. We have literally been in each others hip pockets 24/7/365, except for a total of 5 years. On that note, the rest of the time we have been together. Own our own businesses. Have traveled and lived all over because the mood struck us. I think I loved the US Virgin Islands, St Thomas and St John, and California the best, but then again Cozumel should not be discounted. Yup, he is a beach bum at heart.

We hang around the house in our undewear, and very nocturnal.

So. What’s our secret?

I would be lying if I said we haven't had our fights. You can't live that close with someone, and be passionate and not fight I don't think.

When we met we became friends first. I even told him 'Don't ever tell me you love me. I don't do marriage and long term relationships. There is no such thing.' LOL I figured he would get it. I'm wife #3, and he is Hubby #1, one and only. yah that worked out really well. We sat down and talked about everything. It's not that I didn't want to be together, I just didn't see the need for the certificate. Marriage is all about ~having~ to be together until divorce. Where as living together is about staying together because you ~want~ to and no divorce.

Circumstances demanded we say the dreaded 'I do', which was better than not being together at all.

So what's our philosophy....

To us monogamy is being in love with only one person, and we are. Totally. Truly. Sex? Well, what the heck does that have to do with monogamy and a happy relationship? Was my thoughts. Don't get me wrong. If one of us isn't happy then by God the other better not stray! Open communication, about ~everything~! Being together is about figuring out how to communicate where the other person gets on the same page, so to speak; and being able to listen to the other for who they are, not hear how you think. (did you get that?)

Me and Hubby are complete opposites. He is a technoid encyclopedia inventor explorer beach bum and I'm all about music, art, love, peace, and environment. With that said Venus and Mars often applies. I think he is an Earthling and I'm from another planet. He is very 'Well I learned...." and i think for myself, curious about everything and investigate all. Rarely do I take things at face value, where as he hears it on the news and that's the way it is. I just roll my eyes...a lot.

So what's the glue? We are both very passionate about many things, but mostly each other. We encourage each other to open up and share. Simple pleasures are the best! We watch porn and erotica together. I fold the pages of my Playboy on articles I want to discuss, and we vote 1-10 on the models. I'm Playboy, he's Penthouse. That works too. I read erotica to him, and then we play. *0)

I read widely, and anything I think he will think is hot I read to him. We have no issues with mutual masturbation or pretty much anything as far as sex. We are willing to try most anything more than once. Just because you don't like it the first time....

He is very into 'taboo' again I roll my eyes. Most is not so taboo, but then again, some things were and now aren't. I guess my point is we discuss it, then do it. Read it, watch it, and have fun with it...~together~.

I say we are swingers, and he'll say 'We are NOT swingers!' We have fun with others in oh so many formats, ~but~ we ~never~ switch. So I guess because we don't then we aren't. (He has been backed up in literature and those in the lifestyle-what ever.) I enjoy being wicked with my husband. I love pleasure and pleasing him. We love fulfilling each other's fantasies; and yes he so pleases me and rocks my world.

He loves taking me shopping and I'll wear what he wants me to. Totally different taste in that department as well. So, we compromise. My sexy lingerie I wear under my clothes when not together, though he is coming around, and the trashy stuff I wear for him when we are together. (This is a personal opinion of terms mind you) I have bought stuff for him and he wears it for me. Everything we do and have is his, mine, and then there is ours.

We can tell each other any kink, any fetish, any dream, desire, want and need, and the other does their best to do their part. Sometimes it takes a couple of times to get it right; but it only expands and gets better from there. Sometimes the “guilts” set in and the other makes it okay. Who cares what the media, society, and how we were raised define what is okay. ~We~ are what matters, not them.

When we first got together I asked him, "If two people are together and then get married, then shouldn't they provided the other part of the fulfilled fantasy? If not your spouse then who?" We never understood those who were more worried about what others thought, or lived by "well that's just not done." Why? I don't get it. Never have. Sinful!

I have had GFs who divorced their husbands because they looked at magazines. I bought my hubby his subscriptions for his first birthday we were together. How do people get jealous of a video? We watch together and do with each other. "That's Hot!" We love playing IFT (I'd F That) together. He points out for me, and I point out for him, and every once in a while-not so rare-we both point out the same. FUN! We are both into PDA, and I just don't understand why people don't. 'OMG I French-kissed my hubby waiting in line." Played footsies under the restaurant table...amoung other things. (depends on table cloths) Snorkeling, beaches, and the best is sailing! Ever done things on a boom? Made him stear off course once masturbating on the boom while catching some rays...Why not?

Kiss me good morning. Kiss me good bye. Kiss me hello. Kiss me goodnight. Tell me you love me often. Have silly pet names, and names only the two of you share. No room is off limits...okay the kids room is off limits in our book, but when they moved out all bets were off. Road trips, picnics in the forest...a week should not go by without intamacy and that does not necessarily mean sex. This is not to say we haven't had our dry spells...because we have, but I think the years of minimum of twice a day took care of this. We haven't done it all, and more to explore, but I think my biggest point is...

In order to get through the really rough times, your good times need to be good, great, to extraordinary. How ever you define that. Don't be afraid to discuss your needs and ~never~ assume they won't get it. I think that's the biggest problem with relationships that I have seen. There is too many no I won'ts and not enough 'okay let's try'. Too much of "well society says if you do that then it means..." Men may want a lady in public and a slut in the bedroom, but guess what, ladies want a gentleman when PC correct is needed and a wicked lover when it's not. It doesn't matter what the experts, society, media, etc define! It matters how the two of you define...

So, yes, lovers, slut, tantra, kama sutra, BDSM (he's my Sir and I'm his pet), Kinky, Fetish, washing each other in the shower, in the ocean, pool, hot tub, in the bedroom, kitchen, closet, back patio under a full moon. Imagination, creativity, exploration, and education. You have to be friends and lovers. Husband and wife by your terms NOT societies or how you were raised to define this; because when it comes down to it, the kids grow up and move on, friends come and friends go, society changes the rules daily, money is here today and gone tomarrow, healthy and sickness, young and older, and all that is left is you and your mate. It is not about you or me, them or they, but the we! Yet, isn't that what it is suppose to be all about?

So agree to disagree. Fight clean and have dirty sex. Take time out before it goes into the ugly zone, and make parenting a joint effort but let your kids know how you love them is not the same and make your mate never forget why your together, Open communicate about everything and anything. No Secrets, No lies, and as little time wasted as possible. Appreciate and rarely take for granted. Good times, bad times, and everything in between but that's life isn't it? Sometimes relationships are a burning inferno, and sometimes just a glimmer of light. Don't let the spark go out, because even under the coldest ashes there is usually an ember you can blow on to get the warm cozy fire burning.

Just a point of view and my two cents.

Photo Credit: "Flowers" by Keefer on Photobucket

copyright 2008-2011, www.sexyprime.typepad.com; PARTIAL reposts only permitted with link back to original article on SexyPrime

July 13, 2010

“But after talking with my married gal pals and seeing multiple Oprah episodes about women’s achingly paltry libidos and the trouble it caused their men, I began to wonder if I wasn’t being led astray. When I hear sexperts on TV give advice about how to help women with their “dysfunctional sex drives” I get suspicious that we’re all feeding into the convenient male fantasy of the sexually voracious woman,” from “I Love My Low Sex Drive” by Joan Sewell on The Daily Beast.

In over two decades of sex writing, I have never heard from a man criticizing the way another man gets his orgasm—or, God forbid, suggesting that an orgasm doesn’t really matter anyway.

From women, I hear it often.

Some women, unhappy with their own sex lives, channel their anger and frustration into criticism and judgment of other women’s sexuality.For example, an outraged woman responded to “Is There An Orgasm In Your Walk?”—with “BS!” and then some. Following her tirade, she insisted that she is very sexual and not a prude.(Right.)A woman befriended me on Facebook, I suspect, just to ask me why I “need” to display cleavage.I replied, “not a need, a desire.”She told me that she had outgrown the desire/need to appear sexually appealing to men.(That I believe.) Read yesterday’s post for the full FB story.Got cleavage?You could be next.

In response to an article I wrote for lemondrop.comon coming while giving a blow job elicited, I got rude and nasty comments like “This is impossible!” and “Obviously written by a man!” and “Such a display of ignorance!”(Yes, hers.) A woman who also comes while giving blow jobs said she was embarrassed to tell that to her friends.They wouldn’t believe her or would make her feel cheap and over-sexed if they did.

I hear that a lot too.It’s okay to complain about sex to friends, but not to “brag” or “boast.” Why is saying “I have great sex!” a brag/boast when “I am good at my job!” or any other superlative is a healthy expression of self-confidence?Some women are incredulous about sexual passion because they’ve been on anti-depressants so long they’ve forgotten what it feels like to crave a lover.

MAYBE THE ANGRY WOMAN REALLY DOES NEED TO GET LAID (AND COME)

“And what was left was desire. I suddenly remembered what it was like to actually want to have sex. And not like, "Sure, why not?" a few times a week, which is what my sex life had become. But actually wanting it. Thinking about it at inappropriate times. Lusting after people behind counters. Having more fun in bed, and a whole lot faster (those who have been on SSRIs will know what I mean),” from “Going Off Anti-Depressants Turned Me Into A Nympho,”by Ada Calhoun on salon.com

Women’s anger about how other women have (better) sex is boundless.SexyPrime is a place for sex-positive women and men of any and every sexual persuasion.Not welcome here—angry, critical judgmental people.I delete their comments because I don’t want them to poison the atmosphere or discourage other women from sharing their stories.Other sites encourage their wrath.

In “Outrage World” on slate.com, Emily Gould takes Jezebel to task for “ginning up page views by exploiting women’s worst tendencies.”The current outrage on the site:“The Daily Show’s” hiring of Olivia Munn because she has been on the covers of Playboy and Miaxim and thus “less known for her comedy chops.”

Gould says,“The vibe is less sisterhood-is-powerful than middle-school clique in-fight, with anyone who dares to step outside of chalk-drawn lines delimiting what's "empowering" and "anti-feminist" inevitably getting flamed and shamed to bits. Paradoxically, in the midst of all the deeply felt concern about women's sexual and professional freedom to look and be however they want, it's considered de rigueur to criticize anyone, like Munn, who dares to seem to want to sexually attract men.”

It’s ugly out there in the world of outraged women.I wish they would get outraged about Female Genital Mutilation, women being put to death for the “crime” of adultery in the Middle East, “honor” killings, little girls sold into sexual slavery—and the sexual ignorance and intolerance in our own country.But no, their anger is directed at skinny models, sexy women in the media—and you, if if you come more easily than they do.

AND I SWEAR:IT ALWAYS GETS BACK TO THE MISSING O

“That's a lot of sisters not getting the pleasure they deserve. So Bakos developed "The Orgasm Loop," which she claims is the no-fail technique for reaching orgasm during sex’ …I was skeptical, as I'm usually not an advocate of the self-help genre. In my opinion, new-age sex tips are about as reliable as restaurant recommendations from a vegan. But two attempts in, and suddenly ...” from “The Orgasm Loop: Self-Help That Really Helps” by Sadie Faye.

The bottom line for angry women delivering harsh judgments:If something does/doesn’t work for me, then it should/shouldn’t work for you.My path to orgasm, no matter how limited or ineffective, should be yours.Men don’t think this way; women do.Each unsatisfied women is her own arbiter of how other women should (not) get their orgasms.

The big commercial engine of the Women’s Media/Therapy/Sex & Relationship Advice Industrial Complex caters to this woman.Female sexual dysfunction is enshrined in the culture.No wonder Big Pharma is taking a hit for trying to find the magic pink bullet—while the little blue pill was introduced without hand wringing over how much pressure it might put on men to be sexual. Women still treat other women like idiots who can’t make their own sexual choices, be it a pill or a man, woman, both at once.We are way more comfortable with women who don’t like/don’t want sex than with women who do.If we actually taught women how to have orgasms easily, Dr. Laura Berman would not be getting her own show on The Oprah Network and that’s the least of it.

Whether we label sexual pleasure “sinful” or “excessive” or “needy” or “not as important as intimacy”—and someone please tell me how you achieve “intimacy” without good sex—we are just too comfortable with the idea that women don’t want, aren’t built for, simply don’t crave as much sex as men.We like our Mamas fat, medicated and sexually disinterested.In fact, women have a greater capacity for sexual pleasure than men do.

Orgasm is the most amazing, incredible human experience.

BUT CAN THE SCIENCE SAVE WOMEN WHO WON’T WANT TO BE SAVED?

My first reaction to the pink pill that would change brain chemistry in creating desire was:Oh, God, are we just giving women a sexual upper to counteract the SSRI downer?One could easily project a Sexual Stepford Wives scenario.

Low or no desire in women has many root causes, including what I consider to be The Big Three —

A history of unsatisfactory sex with poor sex technique skills, hers and his, and her persistent difficulty reaching orgasm.

Use of prescription drugs, particularly SSIs, often coupled with overweight and sedentary lifestyles.

The pervasive myths and damaging beliefs about sexuality—and lack of understanding of how Nan Wise’s Desire Curve works in all of us, men and women.Centuries after fairy tales were first told, women still expect a version of the Sleeping Beauty myth:The prince awakens them and they live happily ever after.

All that said, we simply don’t have enough data on what low desire looks like in the female brain.For some women, a pill that alters brain chemistry may be the perfect solution.We need more research.What we don’t need is more female outrage against women who like sex more than they do.

Women are more innately sexual, more capable of orgasm than men.Watching them mellow from outrage into prudes is sad. And unnecessary! I could teach any woman how to achieve orgasm easily and often by teaching her The Orgasm Loop.

She need only let go of the rage and begin.Women who can have their own orgasms any time don’t judge other women for how they get theirs.

[There is science behind The "Skinny Jeans" BJ Orgasm, Nan Wise’s Desire Curve and The Orgasm Loop. I’ve given you a lot of links in this piece—but if you really want to change your own sex life and not monitor someone else’s, you have the tools.]

copyright 2008-2011, www.sexyprime.typepad.com; PARTIAL reposts only permitted with link back to original article on SexyPrime

Writing mean and snarky is much easier than writing smart, balanced and nuanced. The hateful harrangue flies off the fingertips, but the measured evaluation takes some time and contains fewer quotable gems. The internet has intensified the snark factor in cultural criticism by at least a million. A little web browsing to see what the empty heads with mouths are saying and you need a good hot shower, if not the oil spill clean-up crew.

Steve Otero sent me a slew of SATC critiques, including an unintentionally hilariously bad article "How Not To Date Like Carrie Bradshaw" written by Jen Simon for The Frisky. My favorite piece of her advice to women: Don't over-analyze men/dating/relationship as she over-analyzes a movie, a piece of entertainment, as if it were the oil spill. Other writers, including movie critics, have been vicious in their attacks on "Sex and The City, 2", some blaming both the TV series and the subsequent two films for creating a culture of over-consumption. (Were none of you here in the 80s? Have you never heard of Gordon Gecko? Christian Lacroix? Ivana Trump? Wall Street?) The Female Fab Four have been accused of ruining the culture of New York City when, in fact, they have reflected their times, not created them.

SATC was a hit TV show that resonated with women all over the world because the dialogue on sex and relationships was insightful, honest and witty. The conversations these characters had inspired real women to open up and speak up. The four actresses so inhabited their characters that they became as real to us as friends. The soul sister bond they share is a fantasy as appealing as the clothes and shoes. But let's face it: the franchise (and Sarah Jessica) became so successful that it was bound to enrage many little minds.

I planned to meet Arie Thompson and some of her friends Tuesday night to see the movie together and discuss over drinks after. The 9 p.m. and 9:30 p.m. showings at Chelsea Cinema were sold out. I left to meet my lover; they bought tickets for the 10. I finally saw SATC 2 on Wednesday night; and Arie and I are having that discussion via email.

While we quibbled on whether or not the portrayal of the Arab world is fair and accurate--we agreed on this:

"Much of the negativity aimed at the movie," she says, "is this crazy obsession with women’s age. I read a few reviews that made snarky comments about how the women look too old for close ups and then slammed the film for being materialistic. Isn't that hypocritical? Watching the film, though, I could almost feel the spectre of age/loss of sexiness just hovering in front of the lens. Honestly, walking out of the theatre, I had one of those profound moments of “FUCK IT—Enough with all of this age bullshit, people. Live a little deeper than your wrinkles and it won’t be such a fucking problem!!!

"Really, is the most interesting thing that we can say about sexuality is that as people get less photogenic, only the ones who go crazy trying to remain physically ageless can have hot sex--or at least the hot sex everyone wants to look at?"

I left the theatre feeling that SATC 2 danced around the sex (like a heavily veiled belly dancer) because the writers couldn't figure out how to show us what happens in bed between mature adults after the thrill (that NREU high I discussed in Tuesday's post) is gone. For real sex on screen, we still have to plunk our money down for a foreign film. Most of the bullets were dodged here. Carrie's Big Kiss was much ado about nothing. Charlotte's nanny turns out not to be a sexual threat to her. Miranda's sex life is entirely off-screen.

Cattrail bravely played Samantha, allowing the fear beneath the outrageous behavior to show on her face, in her eyes. She is the best actress in this film and deserves recognition for playing the difficult role, not castigation for the character. More than anyone else, she created, in me at least, the desire for another sequel. Will Samantha learn how to tone down her style? Will she figure out that good sex doesn't look like porn stars coupling? What does a sexually active single woman at fifty look like?

The script writers let us down, but, all things considered, this is a film worth seeing. Is every reunion with old friends an unqualified success? Do you sometimes come away with more questions than answers? But, yet, you go back.

SATC fans love the clothes, the sets, the fantasies; and we love the characters. And we want/need to see them handle sex and aging in a way that has everyone talking once again.

Arie says, "The film definitely plugs into a place of deep fantasy/longing for a lot of women and at the end of the day that’s both its strength and its weakness."

Re. the Arab storyline: I dated an international investment banker and thus spent time with Arabs. The rich take ostentatious to a level that would awe Gordon Gecko. The women do wear designer clothes under their burkas and read Western books in their book groups. There are kind and honest people selling their wares in souks. A British couple recently almost went to jail for PDAs. And, yes, Dubai is over and Abu Dhabi is where it's at.

copyright 2008-2011, www.sexyprime.typepad.com; PARTIAL reposts only permitted with link back to original article on SexyPrime

December 07, 2009

“Love the pussy, big-time. If you love the pussy right, a woman will beg to do things to you that you will like a whole lot, or sometimes just grab on and do them without waiting to ask. Unlike post-orgasmic guys who have that lamentable tendency to just fall asleep, post-orgasmic women are often energized, very excited and not nearly ready to stop. Ladies first really works and most women love it, appreciate what you're doing and show that appreciation. Selflessness can be selfish, I suppose, but good giving usually means great getting,” from a devoted SexyPrime reader.

I knew my guys would come through on this one—and you did!Ranging in age from 19 to 58, 268 men responded enthusiastically to the vulva survey.You LOVE the pussy.Speaking on behalf of SexyPrime Babes everywhere, we love you.

Here’s how the demographics break down:

Age

28% 19-29

41%30-39

21%40-49

10%over 49

Race

39%White American

37%African American

8%White European

7%Asian American

6%Latino American

3%African

Relationship Status

32%Married or living with someone

29%Girlfriend, living separately

38%Single, sexually active

1%Single, celibate

1.Do you have a pussy preference, for example, big lips or small, shaved/waved or full bush?

A third of the respondents had no preference.Another third preferred shaved or waxed—with varying degrees of passion.And a third love their women au naturelle.One Senegelese man, 47, asked, “Why do you American women do this thing to yourselves?The bush is beautiful.”

Other viewpoints:

“It has to be clean shaven/waxed. I'm just not into bush.,” African American single man in his thirties.

“I do have a personal preference for shaved pussy but it's not anything like a deal-breaker if it isn't. I like it when the hair is shaped. As far as the lips go, I'm pretty open-minded. When they're bigger there's more to play with but I must admit that when they're small and there's a very snug slit that does seriously harden my dick.”

“I like a little fur on my cat. I don't like it much when a woman is shaved clean, it makes it look.... too young. But I love how the hair traps the natural aroma of the pussy so when you are going down you get to inhale that beautiful funk. Also I like lips that hang down a little bit which also adds to the pleasure of going down.”

2.How do you approach a new pussy?

Overwhelmingly, men said:Gently.“Carefully”.“Experimentally.”“In the looking for guidance mode.”And you most of you understand that what works for one woman won’t necessarily work on the next.I’m not sure about this guy:

“I approach it with intent, the same way I do a familiar pussy—to make her come.Once a man makes a woman come orally, intercourse is a breeze.”

Here’s one of my favorite responses from a married white man (with occasional lovers) over fifty:

“There's no consistent ‘right’ way to go down on any one woman let alone on all women you have the opportunity to go down on… Some women don't like a lot of . pressure. Some don't feel it fully unless you press firmly. Start slowand respond to physical reaction and also to pleasure sounds and to direct verbal instructions. If a woman doesn't know what gets her off, you should be prepared to try lots of different approaches. If she does know and tells you, it's stupid not to follow direction--although being a little more experimental after the first orgasm should be OK.”

3.Have you ever met a pussy you didn’t like—and why not?

For most men, it’s not about the way your lips hang—it’s about how your pussy smells.They want it clean.(Don’t we want that cock clean before we put it into our mouths?)Some comments:

“It didn’t smell good; and that’s all I’m going to say about that,” an African American man in his twenties.

“I've run into a couple that needed a bit of clean-up first but none that I ever felt like turning away from. I like having my dick sucked and it's not reasonable to expect a woman to do for you what you won't do for her.”

“It was an unkempt Amazon rain forest.Urrglllhhh!!!!I just don’t like pubic hair, even on myself.”

And from a married white man in his thirties who hasn’t been with another woman in ten years:“I can’t imagine a bad pussy.They must all be good.”

4.Do you enjoy performing cunnilingus and are you good at it?

Yes!—you are overwhelmingly enthusiastic about cunnilingus.Most of you also think you are good at it.Only 5% of men said they didn’t like to, or wouldn’t, go down on a woman.Interestingly, they were African men or older African American men; only two white men said No to eating pussy.

Some comments:

“I love being asked if I'm good at something. My answer remains the same: I must be pretty good if they keep pulling my back down,” an African American man in his twenties.

“Absolutely—and I am great at it,” a married African American man in his forties.

And from one of my most eloquent survey respondents:

“I've done it on almost every woman I've gone to bed with and all the ones I've done it on had orgasms, including one woman who had never had an orgasm before. I think my skills are adequate and my dedication is serious and sincere. No one has complained, at least not until the second hour when fatigue starts to set in. I'm not just going on their say-so about the orgasms either. I suppose it's possible that a woman has faked an orgasm for me but in most cases some loss of control, increased flow of vaginal fluid and the internal pulsations accompanying the orgasm are generally pretty convincing proof that they're for real.”

5.What are your best strokes to bring her pleasure?

Again, you know that there is no one true path to female pleasure.(“It depends on the woman; she has to show or tell me what she wants.”)But many described combinations of strokes that have proved effective on more than one woman.Why don’t you guys start sending me sex tips?Imagine this book:Oral Sex Tips For Lesbians and Bi-Girls From The Male Readers of SexyPrime.

Some comments:

This one from a very quotable young African American husband:“My personal favorite, the Folded Deck Chair:the guy is on top and the woman rests her legs on your shoulders giving you full access to g-spot stimulation and ultra deep penetration. Nothing beats the Folded Deck Chair.”

“Depends on the woman. Some respond amazingly to broad lapping up-and-down strokes of the entire vaginal area. Some respond to a stiffened end of the tongue and a slightly stabbing motion. Some go crazy for very light, very slow swirling touches.”

And this one from another favorite correspondent, a white married man in his fifties: “My tongue gently caressing her clit while my finger is applying direct and firm come hither pressure on he g-spot and urethra.”

6.Does she touch herself during intercourse—and do you like that?

Only half report that their partners touch themselves during intercourse—and another quarter would love to see that happen and, yes, have even begged for it.The remaining less than 25% believe that their cocks (especially post-cunnilingus) should be enough.Those came primarily from these groups:African American men over 49, Africans, Asian and Latino men in their twenties.Go figure.

It’s an important question because most women do need direct clitoral stimulation in addition to thrusting to reach orgasm.The answer is important too.In this survey, half the No Touch women have partners who wish they would.

Some comments:

“Yes she does and it gives me great pleasure to watch and learn how she is using her finger.Then I get to do it.Yeah!”

“She enjoys masturbating when we're doing it doggystyle for double stimulation. Sometimes when we are watching porn I take her hand and force her to masturbate herself, then when she gets when I lick her fingers. Needless to say, I love when a woman masturbates during sex. Actually I just enjoy watching women pleasure themselves, regardless.”

“No, she doesn’t.I have encouraged my wife to do that because it would be a great turn-on for me—but, no.”

“As long as we don't get in each other's way it's all good. Watching a woman use her own hands to please herself can be extraordinarily erotic and very, very arousing as it indicates a high level of trust and openness. Whatever works for her, works for me.”

75% of you say that she does use a vibrator—and most of that 75% have used one on her.SexyPrime readers are definitely ahead of the sexual curve.(A recent survey of women showed that less than half owned vibes.)The 25% reporting little or no vibe experience were African American men in their twenties or over 49, African men and Asians and Latinos in their twenties.

Some comments:

“Most of the women I've been with have used vibrators, sometimes with me there. I've not used one on all the women I've been with but I've done it whenever the opportunity arose and have suggested it routinely. My tongue sometimes gets tired but our little mechanical buddies work amazingly well and don't often get tired. I tend to favor plug-ins over battery-powered but some of the special designs are worth the risk of the occasional interruption to switch batteries when needed.”

“We both enjoy employing the help of the Pocket Rocket when I’m on top as it tingles my penis and sends quivers through her pussy.”

“If she’s a Western woman, surely she has used a vibrator.Why would she not?”